


Pact

by Caffeine_Chaos243



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Character Death, College Student Castiel, College Student Dean, Depressed Castiel, Depressed Dean, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV Alternating, POV Castiel, Poet Castiel, Sam Winchester Dies, Teacher Castiel, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffeine_Chaos243/pseuds/Caffeine_Chaos243
Summary: Inspired by a real life story of a pact between two college friends, Cas retells his story of the part of his life that he knew and loved Dean.





	Pact

**Author's Note:**

> If I can't find the cure, I'll  
> I'll fix you with my love  
> No matter what you know, I'll  
> I'll fix you with my love  
> And if you say you're okay  
> I'm gonna heal you anyway  
> Promise I'll always be there  
> Promise I'll be the cure (be the cure)  
> -The Cure by Lady Gaga

                It was fall. Not the fall you’re thinking of with the cool weather and the beautiful trees. It was hot as hell and I was dying as I jogged along the tree lined path.  Literally dying. Okay well not literally. I had chosen that day to go for a run because the excitement of passing my first exam was too huge to contain. I was gasping for breath, though my tongue was thick in my mouth and blocked the air. I stumbled off the trail near the algae covered lake and braced my hands on my thighs as I tried to not black out. I failed.

                “Hey, are you alright?” A deep voice called out to me, pulling me from the darkness probably hours later. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at the leaves. No wait, those were eyes. The brightest green eyes I had ever seen.

                “Are you wearing contacts?” I whispered hoarsely. The man staring down laughed at me before I was suddenly yanked to my feet. I wobbled on protesting legs and looked at the guy again. _Holy hell he’s gorgeous._ _Shit, don’t puke. Don’t puke on him._

                His brow was wrinkled in concern as he stared at me. He was my height, maybe a little taller. His tawny hair was spiked and it was probably the deciding factor in our height difference. “Are you alright?” He reiterated. I nodded dumbly.

                “Good.” He let go of my forearms, and I felt the loss of touch way more than I should have considering I hadn’t even known he was touching me.

                “Was too hot. Passed out.”

                “Yeah I watched you topple. I was on that bench over there.” He flashed a breathtaking smile and I had no control over the smile that I returned.

                His hand popped out and hung in the air between us. “I’m Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

                “Castiel Novak.” I shook his hand and that’s how we started.

 

***

 

Castiel pushed away from his desk with a huff of frustration. “This sucks so bad. This is a stupid idea.” He got up and stormed away from the old typewriter on the small table he considered his work space. He walked to the kitchen and roughly yanked open the fridge.

                Castiel was angry. Angry at the world. Angry at this stupid idea. Why would this make a good story? He grabbed a drink and angrily returned to the desk to keep writing.

 

***

 

It was effortless, our relationship. Dean was fresh out of high school and eager to be away from his old man. He was funny, kind, and brave. He adored his little brother, Sam. I think half of his side of our conversations mentioned Sam at least once.  Did I mention he was handsome as hell? Yeah I was smitten as soon as he walked me back to campus that first fall day.

                The fire I had lost after my first year here was being reignited the more time I spent with Dean. I was halfway through my bachelor’s degree in history and education. I was determined to be the best damn history teacher out there, because I had had some pretty amazing ones in school. Dean told me he loved that I was so passionate. I tried to assure him that not knowing which degree he wanted to work towards was okay, but he felt embarrassed whenever it came up. I stopped bringing it up.

                The first month after that first encounter was spent learning about each other. It was crazy how different we were, but we got along so well. I refused to stay up past eleven so night-owl Dean started getting up early so we could talk in the morning. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by me. I had strived to make it here, to get this degree and make a difference. Yes I wanted to be independent and enjoy my youth unlike my father and older brothers had, but I also wanted to be successful and reliable. Dean somehow made me feel like I was accomplishing both.  It was hard not to like the guy. I knew I was in trouble, especially with how flirty he was to _everyone._ Everyone else, that is.

                He could smile his way into a free meal at a restaurant…not that he did it. (More than once) I loved how open he was about everything. He told me one night as we texted from our dorm rooms that he had never felt as free as he did when he arrived at school and in the three months since. He never wanted it to end. I understood the feeling.

                Actual autumn hit and the leaves changed as the colder air settled across campus. I took to wearing my favorite coat once I decided the coolness was there to stay, and Dean never stopped giving me grief for it. It was one day in particular that will always be engraved in vivid detail in my mind.

 

                ***

 

                Castiel took a deep breath. “Why would you type that, you dumbass?” He muttered as he pushed his hands through his hair. “How am I supposed to tell this story? Now of all times? How?” He whispered as the sky slowly darkened out the window above his desk. With shaking hands he settled his fingers on the typewriter’s keyboard and closed his eyes.

 

***

 

It was that same path through the grove of trees that surrounded the campus on several sides. Now the trail was littered with red, yellow, green, and brown leaves that crunched satisfyingly underfoot as Dean and I strode side by side.

                Dean was talking animatedly about a class he had heard about. I smiled earnestly as I listened to him talk about setting an alarm so he was able to register as soon as the class rosters opened for the upcoming spring semester. He smiled over at me and my breath caught as my feet involuntarily stopped moving. Dean paused, verbally and physically, and looked at me.

                “You alright?”

                How was I supposed to tell him that I was upset his eyes no longer matched the leaves?  I cocked my head to the side and squinted at him. His expression changed suddenly and before my brain registered it, he was in my personal space. His cologne washed over me and I inhaled deeply. Blush rose on my cheeks and the back of my neck as I realized it was an audible inhale. Then his lips brushed mine as the wind kicked up and leaves swirled around us. A heartbeat later his lips were firmer as they pressed against mine, and I leaned into him.

 

***

Castiel closed his eyes as tears ran down his face. The feeling of the breeze making his trench coat flap while Dean’s arm hugged his lower back tightly was so strong; Castiel could almost imagine he was back there.

***

 

                Romantically, we only lasted until Christmastime. It took us three months to realize this was an all or nothing relationship. God, I adored him. But I needed to be myself just as much. If he had given me a single shred of doubt about the decision, I wouldn’t have agreed. I would have held on tightly and figured out life as we went.

                We amicably parted ways as lovers before the New Year. I threw myself into my studies, but nothing dampened our friendship. We spoke daily, we studied together, and we ate lunch and usually dinner together. It just….was. That’s how life was. And I adored it.

                It was around Valentine’s Day that Dean began dating again. When he declined supper because of _her_ I was only a little upset. I had expected this way sooner but I was still jealous of the tall blonde with a face full of freckles. I was jealous of the brunette with eyes almost as intense as Dean’s that followed a few weeks later. It was hard, watching him dance around women. He never dated another guy though, so I always had that I suppose.

                My first post-Dean date was in May of that year. School was about to let out, and I had scored a job on campus. My instructor’s receptionist was a beautiful red head, and I found out quickly she was gay. She hooked me up with her cousin and he and I hit it off really well. I had a lot of energy to burn off, and he helped immensely.

                It didn’t last though. I knew it wouldn’t because all I could think about was Dean, who went home for the summer.  It was a long three months until he returned, looking like a tanned, sculpted god as he sauntered onto campus with his ridiculous bowlegs.  I remember the giddy feeling I had when he walked straight up to me and hugged me.

                “Letters and skype are never enough, man.” He said into my ear as I savored his arms around me.

                “I agree. Don’t go again.”

                “I won’t. This summer sucked balls.” He stepped back and smiled at me and I smiled back, feeling whole again.

 

                We continued this way for another year. Dating others on and off and continually agreeing we weren’t ready to settle down. Having fun. Living slightly wild and carefree, but also hankering down and studying like hell when we needed to. Before I realized it, it was graduation time for me. I had passed all my finals, done everything I wanted to, and this was it. He brought a date to graduation and I smiled and waved at them as they sat in the crowd. Dean beamed up at me.

                I got my degree and turned to the crowd to smile at him. Always at him. But he was nowhere to be seen. His date was sitting in her chair, twisting towards the exit of the giant auditorium anxiously. My stomach dropped into my gut. Something was wrong, I could feel it. Without a second’s thought I walked off the stage and hurried through the hall where milling families stood. Of course mine wouldn’t be there. I didn’t care; I just needed to find the one person I did care about.

                I found him outside, kneeling on the dirt ground around the corner of the main entrance.  My hand went to his shoulder and he looked up at me as his phone fell to the ground in a limp hand. He stared at me as his eyes began to flood with tears. His mouth opened and the most inhuman wail I’d ever heard from a real person escaped his lips in the form of a name.

                “Sam!” The name was drawn out and broken as sobs wracked his torso. I dropped to the ground beside him and pulled him against me. He cried out again and punched the wall beside us until his knuckles bled.  I tightened my hold on him and cried with him, not knowing the details but I didn’t need to. Not for this level of pain.

                My strong Dean struggled with the death of his little brother for the entire two days until the funeral. He put on a brave face but whenever he thought I wasn’t looking his face crumpled.  I drove him home to Kansas to be there. He leaned on me as they lowered the casket into the ground. He held himself together for all of the friends and family that were there. He looked brave and strong and only slightly phased by the events, but I knew different. He was cracking inside and it wouldn’t be long before he fell apart. I slipped my hand into his and he inhaled a shuddering breath.

                The pastor said something about it being God’s will, but looking at the hidden devastation in Dean’s expression, I internally raged about how that could be possible? What possible purpose is there to allow a drunken asshole to take the life of a 16 year old boy and his first girlfriend? Why?

                People offered their condolences. Dean nodded and thanked them while his father sat in the passenger seat of his car, staring blankly at the sunny sky. Dean stayed near the casket until the last person left. I stayed by his side. The man let us know they needed to start the burial and I nodded as Dean just frowned at the ground. It wasn’t until the casket was hidden from sight that Dean lost it.

                He threw himself on me and I stumbled before I caught him. He cried into my shoulder and I let him as tears burned my eyes. His dad avoided looking at us as he ignored the world from the car.

 

                I stayed for a week. When it was time to go back to campus to move out of the dorms, Dean delivered the news I had been conscious of but denying. With a solemn expression he cornered me in his father’s house as I hauled my suitcase to the car.

                “I need to stay, Cas.” He said roughly. His arms were crossed over the AC/DC shirt I had gotten him for his last birthday and he was staring at his feet.

                “I thought you might.” I looked towards the living room where the TV was playing a baseball game. John was in there, staring at the screen like a zombie. He had given up. We could all see it. He had given up and Dean was doing everything. Feeding the man, making him bathe, making him live. It made me so angry. I turned back to Dean.

                He had given so much to his family. All he wanted was to go to school and get a good degree doing something he enjoyed. Live his life without being told what to do and when to do it. Now his father was pulling this on him, heaving the guilt on so heavily that Dean couldn’t do anything but stay. He looked up at me and offered a weak grin. With a lump in my throat I dropped the bag and pulled him into a hug.

                “You know how to get a hold of me.”

                “I do. Thanks, Cas.”

                I stepped back, more words stuck on the tip of my tongue. I left with an awkward nod and didn’t see him for over two years.

 

***

Castiel inhaled shakily as he pulled his hands away from the keyboard. He needed a Time Turner so he could go back and fix that. To beg Dean to just go with him. To not lose all of that time they could never make up.

***

                After two weeks Dean changed his phone number. I don’t know if it was intentional or what, but it was so hard to not have him on hand like before. I tried calling a few of the people I had met at the funeral but it seemed he had cut ties with everyone. That first year without him was hell.

                I had this degree that I had worked so hard for, but I couldn’t bring myself to apply anywhere. I couldn’t focus on things. I struggled to keep my job on campus. Six months in and still no word from Dean. No letters, no phone calls, no emails. He was silent. Another six months passed and I pulled myself out of depression and applied at high schools all across the country.

                It was a little over two years since that goodbye in Dean’s house when I was reading through the rejection letters in my small kitchen. A knock sounded from my door and I glared at it.  I stood angrily, annoyed with the downstairs neighbor for not understanding that humans walk and yes, it makes noise when you’re in shitty apartments.

                I flung the door open and froze. Dean looked over at me with those unreal eyes, though the corners held more lines than they once did. He lifted his mouth in a small half smile. “Heya Cas.” He said lowly before stepping in. He brushed past me and his cologne made me want to pass out right then and there from relief and nostalgia and sadness. Loneliness.

                “Dean?” I watched him sink into the kitchen chair I had been occupying. His beard was thick and I couldn’t remember seeing him grow it out so long before. I felt like a piece of me had just waltzed in, but at the same time he was so _different._ He looked up at me with sad eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be so sad. He was the joyous, playful, flirty one.

                “It’s been awhile.” He muttered as he looked around.

                “Not for lack of trying.” I countered, though I immediately regretted it when his expression fell. I wanted to wrap him in a hug and let him know everything was okay. I took a step forward and he frowned at my foot, so I stopped.

                “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been struggling, man. I’ve hit some pretty bad lows. I didn’t want to drag you down with me. Not when you were already set up for so much success.”

                I ignored the last line, the last lie. I wanted to tell him how much I needed him.  _Dean I want to be there. I want to help you. I’ve missed you so bad._ All that came out was a hoarse, “It’s been two years!”

                He turned and looked into the living room to avoid my gaze. “I gave up on Dad. I feel like I’m continually giving up on everything. I can’t do that to you too.”

                I worked my mouth, trying to spit out the words of comfort I had rehearsed over the years. The words I thought would win him back. “I won’t give up on you, Dean.” I stated as I strode to his side and knelt beside him. I rested my hand on his leg and caught his downward gaze. I stared up at him for what felt like ever. I wasn’t sure I recognized this human shell.  “I want to help you. More than I’ve wanted anything in these last two years of hell.”

                He frowned so heavily I thought he would cry. Before he could look away I blurted, “I love you Dean.”

                His breathing hitched and he scrunched his eyes closed.  “I- I can’t do this, Cas.” Dean whimpered. His lip trembled as he pulled his hand away from mine. “I can’t have that kind of…of emotional connection to anyone. Especially you. I’m so…empty inside. I can’t do it, man. Not now at least.” He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Maybe in another year. Or two.” Dean’s eyes closed and he whispered, “Maybe never.”

                Tears threatened to blur my vision so I used my hand to scrub at my eyes. Dean moved his leg away from me and cleared his throat. “I need space, Cas. I need to figure out life. Sammy was so much to me.” Dean’s voice cracked and my heart shattered. I steeled myself to respond. To be there for him since I hadn’t been allowed to for the last two years.

                “I will do whatever you need me to do, Dean. I will give you anything in this world, if it helps you be able to heal.” I spoke much stronger than I thought was possible in that moment. Dean looked to the ceiling and swallowed.

                “I was happier than I had ever been when I was with you, Cas.”

                I laugh-sobbed before dropping my head into my hands. “Me too.”

                We sat in silence for who knows how long. It was dark out. I’m pretty sure it had been before dinner time when he had arrived. I finally pushed myself to my feet and went to brew coffee. An idea formed in my head as the smell filled the little kitchen. I leaned against the counter like it was the most nonchalant question in the world.

                “Dean, if neither of us is married by the time you’re 30, will you marry me?” I asked simply. I was 25 and he was 23 and I knew it was a while away, but I didn’t care.  He turned to me and I didn’t understand his expression so I clarified. “If by the time you’re 30 and I’m 32 and you’ve figured out how to heal your emotional hurt and not fallen for someone else, will you marry me?” He continued to stare at me blankly. “If by that time I haven’t fallen in love again, and you haven’t, will you marry me?” I asked once more. He stared at me for a full minute.

                “Yes.” He answered softly. “Yes, I will.”

                I stepped forward and offered my hand. He took it and we shook, which feels like a silly thing to do now that I’m looking back, but it’s what happened. I turned around to fill my mug and Dean walked out of my apartment before I realized it. I turned around with two mugs to find the door slowly swinging until it clicked closed with a light thump.

 

***

 Castiel stood again. He almost ran to the bathroom so the sudden bile in his throat didn’t leave a mess on the carpet for him to clean later. He made it to the toilet and heaved his stomach contents into the toilet. Once his torso stopped convulsing he sat back and stood on shaky legs. He turned the hot water on in the shower and stood under the scalding spray until the water began to cool. He toweled off, grabbed a new drink, and walked to the bookcase near his bed. On top was a small book bag. He pulled it from the shelf and walked it to the living room where he gently dumped the contents onto the coffee table.

                Letters, cards, postcards, books, photos, and other random memorabilia spilled out. He shifted through them until he found that first letter. It was crumpled and torn and taped, but it was the first and it was his most treasured.

 

***

               

                I took a job teaching English to children in Russia. It wasn’t the most glorious, but I was able to travel and learn some amazing facts from their history. From history all over. I was starting to get my passion back and I felt worthwhile. It took almost a full year before I heard from Dean. I still don’t know how he got my number, he never said.

                After that first awkward conversation we decided to start sending snail mail. I had always felt a poetic tug when it came to words. If I hadn’t loved history so much I would have opted for an English degree. Dean was blunt and to the point, but his letters made me smile and that was poetic in its own way.

                The first letter told me where he had been. He’d relocated to Montana after he left my apartment. He wanted to be alone and he worked on a ranch there. He barely socialized. He barely slept and ate. It wasn’t until he got a wrong number call from a stranger that he claimed sounded just like me that he decided to try. Try to heal. Try to overcome this depression he was strung into.

                I told of my travels. I sent photos. He sent some back. I got a book from him once, and I read it in one sitting. He actually laughed when I cursed at him for keeping me up until 2 am. The sound made me freeze. My heart ached and I closed my eyes as I willed him to never stop laughing.

                Four years passed this way. I worked in various countries teaching and learning myself. I spoke to Dean through snail mail and email. I grew increasingly lonely the closer we grew this time. No one had ever compared to Dean in my mind. No one could build me up and make me laugh as flawlessly as he did.

                When my 30th birthday arrived, I skyped him at midnight, my time. Thirty minutes into our conversation and discussion on where I was going to eat for my birthday dinner, I couldn’t get the pact out of my head. He seemed to pick up on my mood shift because his smile stilled and he looked at me.

                With a grin to hide my palpitating heart, I broached the topic. “So I’ve never fallen for another person.” I told him seriously. He chuckled and briefly ducked his head.

                “I haven’t either, Cas.”

                “Dean, do you think you’ve been able to heal? As much as someone could from what happened, I mean.”

                He tilted his head a little and it was a long pause before he spoke. “Yes. I’ve gotten better. I’ll never fully be over it, but I’m getting there.”

                “Will you still marry me?” I blurted. My cheeks flamed as Dean laughed. He smiled at me through the screen and shook his head.

                “The pact was 30 and 32. You’re just now 30, Cas. You gotta wait.”

                “I can wait for you forever.” I said simply and he just smiled a heart exploding smile and changed the topic.

 

***

                Castiel looked at the assorted cards and letters he had chosen from the bag, which lay discarded at his feet. He only had that in case of an emergency evacuation. All of his most important documents and treasured items were kept in that bag. Almost everything in it was from Dean.

                He shifted the stack of cards in his hands and set them on the other side. He knew what happened next in this story. In his story. He just needed to get it all out.

 

***

                When Dean asked me to visit him, I almost passed out. Without thinking I agreed. I packed that day and told my boss I had a family emergency in the States and that I wouldn’t be back. He seemed concerned but said it was okay.

                Dean was living in California. I had always wanted to see what it was like there. I applied at all the schools in his town before I actually made the move, and I got offered a job to two of them. One was closer to Dean than the other, and that was my deciding factor.

                Dean was 29 when I saw him in person for the first time since he had walked out of my apartment. He was standing on the curb, leaning against his father’s black Impala, and I spotted him before he saw me. I stopped walking and just drank in the sight of him. He had gained muscle and was so much more handsome than the boyish man I had known in college. Skype hadn’t done him justice. I don’t know how long I stared. People passed by me, some bumping into me, and I just stared and smiled. He was playing with a braided bracelet I had sent him from Rome. On his other wrist was a watch I had sent for Christmas two years before. He was there, and real, and he was waiting on me.

                Suddenly he looked up to scan the crowd, and his gaze froze on me. His eyebrows rose and his lips parted in a smile before he pushed off of the car and strode to me. I couldn’t speak as his arms wound around me and hugged me tightly. He was so familiar and tangible and….joyous. The laugh rumbling his chest as he spun me around was joyous and I wanted to cry.

                I lasted six months. Six months before I finally caved and proposed to Dean with the ring I had. We were on a pier, looking out over the ocean as the waves roiled from the approaching storm. The sky was charcoal and thunderous and the cold, salty breeze blew against us as we leaned against the railing at the very end of the pier. His arm was pressed against mine, and served as the only warmth I felt at the moment.

                “You should have worn your tax accountant coat.” Dean joked, turning to me to gauge my reaction. I rolled my eyes and scooted myself closer to his side.

                “I don’t know where it is.”

                “Liar.” He countered as he leaned his head against my shoulder. My heart swelled at the feeling of him so close. I kissed the top of his head and stepped away. He watched me as I sank to one knee and produced the ring from my pocket. His beautiful face broke into a grin as I held up wedding band.

                “Dean, will you marry me?” I asked seriously. He shook his head and chuckled.

                “No fair, Cas.” He looked down at me, but his gaze was so full of love I didn’t expect his answer.

                “You have to wait a couple months. I’m not 30 yet.”

                 It was so silly. To be forced to wait until he was actually thirty. But really, things between us were going to well what difference would it make? I smiled, pocketed the ring, and walked into his arms as the sky began pouring rain. With a laugh we hurried back to his car.

 

***

 Castiel looked down as tears fell onto his desk. He stared at them numbly for a moment before he realized they were his. He blinked and more fell, so he raised his hand to wipe them away. When he refocused on the paper, and what he had just typed, he realized he had button mashed a little and there was a jumbled mess of nonsensical letters at the end of that page. _Whatever. I just need to finish this._

                The morning sun was brightening the sky, turning it pink behind the silhouettes of buildings. Castiel swallowed the painful lump in his throat and turned back to the typewriter. The inscription on the bottom caught his eye.

 

_For Cas, so you can be poetic as hell. – Dean_

He wanted to smile at it, but he ended up letting out a sob instead. Dean had surprised him with it after a night’s conversation over how much poetry Castiel had started writing over the last five years. Castiel hadn’t stopped talking about the idea of using a typewriter to write poems on for a couple weeks, and it was the perfect gift. Tears rolled down Castiel’s face as he stood and walked away from the desk.

                He clasped his hands behind his head and sucked in breaths as he stared off of the balcony towards the waking city around him. _This was stupid idea. Stupid fucking idea by a stupid therapist who doesn’t know shit._

                His alarm went off in his room. He turned and stomped to it, hoping his footsteps would annoy the neighbors enough they would come up to complain like his old ones used to. He needed to yell at someone, the mirror and quiet air weren’t enough anymore. He turned his alarm off and strode back to his chair. It scraped angrily across the floor as he scooted closer to the table and began pounding out rest of the story.

 

***

                I was talking to him on the phone that night. He was home driving from work and it was storming. Well raining, but he commented twice on how bad it was. After the second time I urged him to hang up with a laugh, telling him not to wreck like an idiot. I had supper in the oven because he’d been gone all damn day and I knew he was hungry.

                “I love you, Cas.” He said with a smile. I absentmindedly listened with the phone pressed between my shoulders as I checked on our dinner.

                “Love you. See ya soon.”

 

                God if I had known. If I had any inclination I would have told him to pull over and wait out the storm. To keep talking to him until the moment he walked through the door. I would have driven to get him myself or something. If I had known.

                This story sucks balls, as he would have said. He died. He fucking died and it had nothing to do with the storm or the rain or him. One irresponsible asshole decided he _had_ to brave the storm so he could get more alcohol for his party so his other drunken buddies would like him. A fucking drunk driver crossed the median after tailgating the Impala and then swerved right into him when a semi appeared around the bend. Dean’s car flipped over the railing and landed in a ravine. Thank God the semi driver had stopped or we probably wouldn’t have known, because the drunken asshole just kept going.

                My world ceased when I received the phone call two hours later. I was already panicking because he should have been home. I don’t even know what the doctor said, I just remember the name of the hospital and I ran. I ran to my car, I sped too fast to the hospital, and I burst through the doors in a sopping mess because it was still raining so damn hard.

                He was in surgery. His skull was fractured, there was internal bleeding, one lung was collapsed, several bones were shattered, and they would be surprised if he woke up once the anesthesia wore off. The doctor left me with no hope for a happy outcome but I held on because I needed him to be okay.

                I sat by his bedside for two days straight. I didn’t eat, or sleep, or drink. The nurses tried but I refused. I begged him to stay with me. I begged God to not take him too. Not like that. We were only one week away from his birthday. We were supposed to get married and live together forever.

                He died around three a.m. on that second day in ICU. I was startled out of a waking doze by the sound of his heart monitor flat lining. I jumped to my feet and wobbled as I was hit with dizziness. By the time my vision cleared the doctor and nurses were bursting into the room and trying to push me out of the way. They tried to save him but I knew he was gone. I felt it like a cold blanket that settled around the room. My breath left me and I fell to the floor as the doctor called the time of death.

                That’s it. That’s the story. There’s no more. I went to Dean’s funeral and I was too numb to even cry as they buried him. His father was there, looking pale and thin, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him. I never called him or asked how he was.

                I don’t know what this was supposed to accomplish besides making me lose another night’s sleep and turning my mindset into an emotional wreck. I’m going to finish this, gather the papers, probably put my shoes on, and go to therapy where I’ll shove them into your hands and sit there sullenly as I rage in my mind at the shitiness of this world.

 

***

 

                Castiel stared at the period on the end of the page. His body shook with rage and grief. He let out a roar and slammed his fists on the desk. It had been four goddamn years and he was still so fucking angry. It’s just not fair.

                True to his typed words, he gathered the pages into a somewhat neat pile, stuffed them into a folder, and then walked to the door where his shoes were. He shoved his feet into them and slammed the door on his way out, hoping for a neighbor to appear so he could direct his anger at someone.

                The therapist was a kind woman who had greying red hair that she always wore in a high bun. She smiled kindly at him as he stormed into the office and threw the folder towards her. She coolly caught it and pulled on her round glasses.

                “I’m proud of you for writing this for me.” She said softly. Her stupid soft voice annoyed him to no end. _Why is so always so calm?_

                “I can see you’re upset. Why don’t you try some breathing exercised before we start?” She suggested/ordered. He sank into the seat across from him with a huff and closed his eyes. After a minute he forced himself to breathe in to a count of seven, and then out for the same. He tried because he knew Dean had been here. He had struggled with these emotions and lack of feelings and will to continue. But he did it. He had healed. He was happy again, even if for a brief time. It had been four years, and Castiel was still trying to get his heart to agree with his mind that he needed to heal. He inhaled and pictured Dean standing under colorful falling leaving. 1…2…3…4…5…6…7. Dean smiled at him. 7…6…5…4…3… 2…  1…

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! Thank you for reading.  
> Thanks to LamboZash for beta reading for me.


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